Wonders of Heresy (Bendy and the Ink Machine)

3- But Not Too Unfamiliar

Author's Note: I was on a McElroy kick when I was naming these chapters.

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"I lay down and slept; I woke again, for the Lord sustained me." – Psalm 3:5

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A chill had seeped into her head and washed over her like a blanket of frost. At first she was frightened, for when she opened her eyes they saw only black. But then a yellow blush started to skulk in front of her, creating shapes out of shade. One of these glimmering, dark planes in her view started to move, and she felt it was moving her as well.

There was a small flame in the room that reminded her of his humanity.

Bloom, bend, wither.

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A mess of items were spread in a half circle almost ritualistically on the floor in front of her crossed legs. It was a miracle- a surreal endowment for her homesick heart- and yet it simply made her compress her lips.

There were things in her backpack she didn't remember putting in there, some she definitely didn't put in there, and many that had small splotches of wet ink resting on their surfaces.

Her temples started to ache from furrowing her brow so much.

Even though the contents of this bag were once a pipedream she longed so much for, having them before her now merely left her exhausted; it compelled her to lift herself from the floor to be liberated of this strain, at least for a moment.

As she did, the woman saw someone watch her from across the room. Or well, at least his "face" was doing that.

Sammy was seated upon the gurney, inclined against the wall; he had been since she found herself leaning into his side. Her face was probably still red, honestly; such a thing was never her intention, something woven from the fibers of physical and emotional weakness.

A grimace formed as she again felt the pains of her last contact with her family, and she forced herself to push it aside once more.

Even though she couldn't blame herself for being that despondent, the woman never intended for him to be a part of it, even after beholding the ink demon itself and subsequently removing everyone of her old life. Not even something so drastic, so disturbing. And so, she felt remorse rather than relief to find herself next to him as she was.

Thankfully though, he...didn't seem to notice? The man hadn't moved nor spoken, even when she retracted her touch. Was he asleep, too? She had briefly considered doing something like waving her hand over his eyes-...mask. Instead, she left him be, accepting either his stare or his repose. For some reason she didn't feel like experimenting, and well, she still didn't even after all this time awake only made the mystery more potent.

She noticed the closed door only a few feet ahead of her, seeming to plead she open it.

And here came a conflict. She very much did not want to go somewhere she didn't recognize. Hell, she didn't want to go anywhere. Even though she remembered walking through this door to enter this small- er, bedroom-? ...her weariness dimmed the memory of what came just before it. All that remained was walking, ink, a wall, and then walking again until her legs could finally, safely give way.

So of course, someone with enough knowledge to accept she couldn't handle this world alone would fear doing exactly that. Nothing lay ahead besides what she didn't know.

But then there was Sammy. It wasn't out of curiosity that she finally opened her bag, actually; it was born from a long, uncomfortable era of silence. She didn't have the strength or bravery to speak to him- not after all that had happened- and so she busied herself with what was at her disposal. And now that was done, leaving her with the unbearable loudness of her thoughts. She gazed at the objects of the room one more time, including the ones that weren't hers.

Tick tick tick tick tick tick!

Overhead, a cartoonish clock watched her pensively as it beat alongside her heart, or rather her beat caught up to its. The room sheltered many things here: there was a chest she didn't dare to open, a large metal gear she didn't dare to touch, and a tall shelf she didn't dare to reach.

She looked down at her belongings as they lay in an untidy yet organized manner where she sat before; they were all so eerie to look at in the candlelight, drops of black sticking out so sharply upon them like portals to another world. It caused her shoulders to raise with unease.

The woman watched Sammy intently as she opened the door and stepped out, but he did nothing to stop her.

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He knew time had passed. He didn't know how much, but evidently enough to change his surroundings.

This had...happened before. Numerously. Sammy would often fade in and out of consciousness as he lived his sunless days amid the studio. Sometimes he'd be back where he last recalled- as he was now- and sometimes he'd stop in his steps, realizing he was walking the halls. Sometimes he was running. He'd look behind and nothing was there.

Sometimes in between there were visions, apparitions that couldn't be determined to be real or not. Bendy smiling upon him; watching his lord's shadow line his body until he felt nothing; silhouettes of someone that bellowed at him with all their being. Like a dream, there was only enough remaining of these events to itch the back of his mind thereafter.

The sight before him now was so unusual that he wondered if it was yet another of these visions.

Many objects were lined across the floor ahead. He...didn't recognize any of them. He didn't know where they came from-

The bag was gaping upon the floor, its insides stained with such a bright color that he shook his head backward, almost excruciatingly. Although so very unsure of himself, Sammy pushed his palms against the mattress of the gurney to drop himself to the floor so he may investigate.

And just at this moment his heart began to race, for he realized the weight that had strapped him to the bed was gone.